


Two Halves and Two Holds

by aurora_australis



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, MFMM Year of Quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:52:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_australis/pseuds/aurora_australis
Summary: “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature.” ― Jane Austen,Northanger AbbeyA wee bit o’ fluff and quite a bit o’ friendship between two Australian detectives. Inspired by the September Quote Challenge.





	Two Halves and Two Holds

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to the MFMM Year of Quotes -- September Challenge.
> 
> Inspired by the quote: “There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature.” ― Jane Austen, _Northanger Abbey_
> 
> Many thanks to Fire_Sign for the beta read and pep talk!

“Good evening Hugh, is the Inspector in?” Phryne asked, gliding into the station, rubbing her hands together to dispel the slight chill in the air, and fondly addressing her favorite Senior Constable, pleased to see him once again behind the desk where he belonged. Fishing. _Really_.

“Good evening, miss. Uh, no, I’m afraid he’s out for the night.”

“Oh,” Phryne said, a little surprised. She’d just assumed he’d be there. Funny that. 

“No matter,” she continued. “Do you know where he went?” If he’d gone home, perhaps she could finally get a peek at his place. What she wanted to discuss was case related and not urgent. It could certainly wait, but _why_? Especially if she might finally get the chance to infiltrate his secret lair. She smiled wide at the thought and leaned in a little on the counter, batting her eyes innocently at the young officer.

“No,” Hugh replied, “but he was definitely going out somewhere nice. He and Miss Watts were both wearing formal wear when they left.”

“Oh,” Phryne said, stepping back, considerably surprised now. “I, um, didn’t realize he had plans.” She smiled again at Hugh, but not quite so wide as before. “Do you know this Miss Watts then?”

“I know she’s the niece of the Commissioner, but that’s about all. Seemed nice though.”

Bloody hell, the man had a type.

She tried to smile again and look unconcerned, though from Hugh’s worried expression she realized she might only be achieving “mildly ill” at this point. “Any idea where they were headed all dressed up?”

“Actually, miss, I asked, but the Inspector told me to mind the front desk and my business, so...” Hugh stopped, realizing with his last few words how poorly he was following those orders right now. “Uh, do you want to leave a message for him?”

“Oh, no, that’s fine Hugh. I’ll see him soon enough, I’m sure.” And with that and a little wave, Phryne stepped back outside, the air slightly chillier than when she’d arrived. Funny that.

\---------------------

Jack bounded up the walk and knocked on the front door of Wardlow, keen to get out of the brisk night air - his formal wear was not as warm as his regular wool suits - and was surprised when it took Mr. Butler a full minute to open the door.

“I’m sorry, sir, I wasn’t expecting anyone so late.”

_Was it late?_ Jack looked at his wristwatch. _Oh, so it was._ He hadn’t even consulted the time before driving over. She’s told him once it was never too late and he was apparently taking her at her word.

“No, no, I’m the one who should apologize. I didn’t realize the hour. Is Miss Fisher still awake or has she headed to bed already?”

“Actually sir, she’s not returned home yet. She told Dorothy and me not to wait up again and headed out a few hours ago.”

“Again?” Jack asked, and thinking about it, she _had_ been out a number of nights recently when he’d thought she’d be home. Of course those occasions hadn’t been as late as tonight… had they?

Mr. Butler, for all his fondness of Jack, just offered the detective a noncommittal shrug.

“I really couldn’t say, sir.”

“Of course, of course. Once again, my apologies.” Jack turned to leave.

“Did you want to leave a message, sir?”

Jack stopped and turned back to the older man. “No, I’m sure I’ll see her soon enough. Again, I’m sorry it’s so late,” he said, talking to himself as much as anyone.

“Quite alright, sir. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Butler.” Jack responded, walking slowly back to his car.

\---------------------

Phryne sat in her parlour, sipping her whisky and listening to the gramophone, her attempts to read for the evening long since abandoned, the poor discarded novel chucked unceremoniously onto her side table. Not even Jane Austen could keep her attention tonight. No sad Italian arias playing this time, though. She’d gone for jazz tonight. Surely it wasn’t as dire as opera yet… was it?

Jack had telephoned earlier in the day and asked if she’d be in that night, he had something he wanted to tell her. She’d assured him she would be and now here she sat. Waiting. Ready to do anything for her friend, including feign happiness if it came to that. She took another sip.

Bloody operas.

She heard the knock on the door and forced herself to relax. She took another sip of whisky as she heard Jack and Mr. Butler exchange pleasantries in the hall and then there he was, standing in her parlour. No bottle of wine this time though. She didn’t know whether that was a good or bad sign.

“Good evening, Miss Fisher.”

“Hello Jack!” she said brightly, standing and heading to the drinks cart. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Yes, please, that would be wonderful,” he responded, taking a seat.

Phryne relaxed a little for real at that. If he was indulging, she almost certainly wouldn’t have to break out the Verdi. She poured him a glass and topped hers up, heading back to sit across from him.

He took a sip and she took the opportunity to speak. “I’m glad you’re here, Jack, I have something for you.”

“For me?” he asked, then added with a tiny lopsided smile, “Should I be worried?”

“Probably. But not because of this.” She reached down under her chair and extracted a large notebook, well worn and well used. She reached across to hand it to him and he put down his glass to take it from her. With a confused expression he opened it up and started skimming the pages. After a few moments he looked up sharply.

“Is this George Peters’ ledger?”

“It is.”

“The… the second ledger? The one we’ve been looking for.”

“Mmmm hmmmm.” She leaned in a bit with mock seriousness. “It looked suspicious so I thought it best to turn it over to the police.” 

“How did you… we’ve had three separate raids of his office, and have never been able to locate the second ledger.”

“I used a middle man. Benny Marks?”

“Peters’ secretary?”

“Yes, it seems that in addition to working for crooked investors, Benny has taste for cards. Poker, specifically. It took me a few weeks, and some rather late nights, but I finally managed to get myself in his game, and over the course of the evening I won a great deal of money from Mr. Marks. More than it seems he could pay. And these are not the kinds of games where one wants to get a reputation for not paying one’s debts. So in lieu of cash, I convinced him that I would benevolently wave his debt if he swiped his boss' second ledger. And voila!”

“Marks wasn’t afraid of his boss? George Peters is not a benevolent man.”

“Oh he was. He was just more afraid of me.”

“As well he should be,” Jack said with a tone of admiration. “Thank you. You didn’t… this wasn’t even your case, Miss Fisher.”

“It’s not exactly yours either, though that hasn’t stopped you from assisting the DI assigned to it.” At that he looked a little embarrassed, so she continued. “This was clearly important to you, Jack, so it was important to me.” She rolled her eyes a little at herself, and gestured to the discarded book on her side table. “As our Miss Austen says, ‘There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends.’ And I’m afraid, Inspector, that includes you.”

“Peters’ embezzlement… he targeted veterans, Phryne. Took a lot of diggers for all they had. It will be a pleasure to lock him up.”

“I’m sure,” she said sincerely.

“I really do appreciate it, Miss Fisher.”

“As well you should,” she said, opting for humor instead of more sentiment. “It was hold ‘em poker, Jack, the _most_ tiresome of card games.”

“You are a saint among women, Miss Fisher.”

“Oh, don’t let Dot hear you say that, she’ll be confessing for… well something I’m sure.”

“Why all the secrecy, though? You could have told me what you were doing.”

“I actually stopped by the station the other night to update you on my progress, but you were out. With a Miss Watts, I believe,” Phryne added in far too casual and innocent a tone to ever be believed as either. 

“Ah. Yes. The reason I’m here actually.”

“Oh?” Phryne asked. She tried to keep her tone casual, but was actually dying to know more. The slight tilt of Jack’s head and amusement in his eyes indicated he was not fooled in the least by her attempt. 

“Yes. I wanted to let you know that even though I’ve had to retire you as my Special Constable-”

“My paperwork was flawless, Jack, I failed to see the problem.”

“-you have been granted permission once again to work cases with us as a civilian.”

Phryne looked surprised at that, and Jack took a moment to savor the situation.

“The Commissioner changed his mind?”

“He did. It turns out his favorite niece, after spending a night at the theatre hearing all about the exploits of one The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher, convinced her uncle that until such time as a lady constable was among the Melbourne ranks, it was important to our reputation as a forward-thinking city to have a Lady Detective working closely with the police.”

“Melbourne is forward-thinking?”

Jack snorted and then gestured to the book on Phryne’s table. “To a man like Commissioner Watts, General Tilney is forward-thinking. But the Commissioner’s also a pragmatist. He realized Mary was not about to back down anytime soon, decided it wasn’t worth the headache, and there you have it.”

“Well that does make things easier. Thank you, Jack.” He nodded, and she decided to continue with the line of questioning, despite not being sure she wanted the answer. "Did you... have a nice time? With Miss Watts, I mean.”

"Miss Fisher, the setting of this particular theatrical travesty was the Tower of London, and I assure you, the prisoners were having more fun than me."

“The Tower… Jack, did you take Miss Watts to _The Yeomen of the Guard_???”

He coughed and looked up, not quite making eye contact. “It was the only thing playing this week and she seemed keen to attend. With a friend,” he added. “And I want to be clear on that - Mary’s not an old friend or a new friend or a best friend,” he said with a very pointed look at Phryne. “She’s just a friend.” 

And Phryne would deny it if asked, but she was very pleased to hear it.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to tease the man. Just a little.

“An operetta, Jack? For me?”

“You’re worth it.” 

And then Jack leaned over, and for a moment Phryne thought he might be reaching for her knee, or possibly her face, which in Phryne’s opinion would have been very good indeed. But at the last moment he moved to the left and picked up the book instead.

Holding it and her gaze, he said, “You're not the only one who doesn't do things by halves, Miss Fisher.”

And that was better.

Phryne smiled, wide and true, and Jack echoed her expression with his own broad grin. And for a moment they just sat there, staring at each other and enjoying the moment. Then Pryne broke the silence.

“Jaaaaack, my father is _finally_ leaving the country next week; would you care to have dinner with me to celebrate? I think we've postponed that particular evening long enough, don't you agree?”

“I do, Miss Fisher.”

She smiled again, then got up to refill their glasses. “You didn’t like it at all, Jack? The production, I mean.”

“They held the performance for 20 minutes at the interval, Miss Fisher, and I assume that was so someone could locate the plot.”

“We could have gone together,” she said, handing him his glass once more.

“That would have somewhat defeated the point, Miss Fisher.”

“True, but it would’ve been much more fun.”

Jack raised his glass in toast or concession, she wasn’t sure which, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Phryne stood in front of him, closer than would be needed for any respectable toast, and clicked her glass with his.

“I’ve no doubt of that, Miss Fisher, I’ve no doubts at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is not the story I set out to write but I’m posting it anyway because I know I could use a little fluff and friendship on this cold and rainy Monday morning, and I thought maybe some other folks could too. :-)


End file.
